


I've got you

by Houseofmalfoy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Black Family Drama (Harry Potter), Black Family-centric (Harry Potter), Cousin Incest, Cygnus Black is a good father, F/M, Parent-Child Relationship, Sirius Black Free from Azkaban, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Transphobia, just so that's clear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22860076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Houseofmalfoy/pseuds/Houseofmalfoy
Summary: The name on her wrist, from the moment it had appeared on her eleventh birthday, had always been Sirius.Which, to her, had meant that it would never be.A soulmate AU in which your soulmate's name is on your body, with a healthy dose of misunderstandings, angst, and not being able to stay away from each other.
Relationships: Rodolphus Lestrange & Narcissa Black Malfoy, Sirius Black/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Comments: 12
Kudos: 52
Collections: HP TransFest 2020





	I've got you

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for transphobia, child abuse, brief mentions of alcoholism, and considering the ship obviously incest between cousins.

_1970_

The name on her wrist, from the moment it had appeared on her eleventh birthday, had always been Sirius. 

Which, to her, had meant that it would never be.

Between the two of them, she had never been the rebel, had never been the one to provoke their family on purpose, and it wouldn’t be until a few years after the name appeared that she would even consider such a thing. So she had waited. 

Narcissa had waited the few months there were between their birthdays, waited impatiently for him to turn eleven and see his mark, waited so that he could decide. It would be her name on his wrist, she had known it for certain. She had needed that rebellious spark in him to make her braver, to let her believe that perhaps there was a chance. 

Sirius had turned eleven and she’d been so eager to see his reaction when Andy had curiously inquired about his soulmate. He had shrugged in response and hadn’t even given Narcissa a spare glance. “Just some random girl. I don’t know her, so she’s not pureblood. Even if I meet her someday, that’ll make all hell break loose.”

He had said it with a grin, chuckling to himself, and she had laughed along numbly to hide how much that simple statement stung. It was a similar lie she had told Andy and Bella when they had asked about her own mark. 

She hadn’t known what else she had expected from him.

Out of the five cousins, it had seemed to her they would be the worst match for a connection such as this. 

Sirius and she had always gotten along for as long as Narcissa was able to remember: they had always been drawn to one another, they were closest in age and felt closer to each other than to their respective siblings, and they were both raised to be a proper heir to their fathers. She had often felt only Sirius truly understood the pressure that position in their family brought with it. 

Naturally, that meant there had never been a chance. Narcissa had known that before he had confirmed it for her. 

_Now, years later, she laughs at herself as she remembers how desperately she had wished to be either of her sisters instead. If only she had known before._

She hadn’t known. 

She had not known it would only be five years before her name, without her realising it yet, would match that girl’s name on Sirius’ wrist. She had not truly known she wanted it to, at eleven, and had not known either that it was a possibility at all. 

Narcissa, at the time, had assumed that either it had been her unfortunate luck that had failed to complete the soulmate bond, wondering if there was a possibility that while Sirius was her soulmate, perhaps she was not Sirius’; but more logically she had come to the conclusion that he simply hadn’t wanted it. 

She could not blame him. She hadn’t been sure if she had wanted it either. 

For a while, before they had both been due to head to Hogwarts, she had been tenser towards him than she usually was. To Narcissa’s frustration, Sirius had only seemed confused by the change in behaviour.

It was one thing to have rejected her so simply, as if it had meant nothing. It was another to pretend as though nothing had happened. She had not been able to understand why it seemed to come so easily to him. 

It would be a while until she would understand that he simply had not known.

In the short time that had been left before they would head to Hogwarts together, Narcissa got better at pretending. If Sirius was going to act as if there was nothing between them, she would do the same. She had made her peace with it, she’d thought. 

She had known it couldn’t be. Not between the two of them. Not then. 

oOo

His Sorting, and how badly wrong it had gone, had caused a rift between them all too easily. It wasn’t supposed to happen, not ever and certainly not with the war that had begun already. There hadn’t been worse timing for such deviation from the norm.

In the alphabetised list, she had come before him and had been sorted into Slytherin a mere moment after the hat had touched her head. As was proper, as was expected of her. 

For Sirius, not so much. 

She had not expected the painful, stinging feeling that washed over her the moment she had seen him walk over to the Gryffindor table. Narcissa had suspected it had something to do with the bond between them, but she had not been sure of it. 

Her suspicion had been more or less confirmed when she had seen him in quite as much pain. 

They had looked at one other from across the hall and their eyes held each other for just a moment before they both looked away. She feeling betrayed, he feeling rebellious but nervous, both utterly unsure of what would come next. 

They had grown apart that first year. 

He had made friends with the blood traitors and mudbloods from Gryffindor house and Narcissa had watched him from across the hall, laughing and boasting with the trademark Black grin his parents had given him. 

She had despised every single one of his friends that year, as he had hers.

She and the Lestrange twins, who she had known before Hogwarts already, had made quick friends with Antonin Dolohov who was in their year, and Lucius Malfoy who had been in the year above them. 

Their status within their families, save for Rabastan who was neither an only son nor an older brother, combined with their last names, had given them an amount of respect within Slytherin that they had gotten used to all too quickly. 

_She doesn’t know for sure what has become of most of her friends. She hasn’t heard of Antonin and Lucius in years, and though she knows Rabastan is engaged and she was there for Rodolphus’ wedding, she has seen neither of them in quite some time._

_It hurts to think about that, but not enough to make her regret her decision._

It had made them arrogant, that status. Arrogant and vain, tightly knit together in a small group deemed superior over the other students. Their attitude had gained them respect as much as it had gained them hatred. 

Hatred had come in the shape of Sirius and his friends. 

It had surprised her how fast that had gone; how much that sorting had changed between them. 

They had been close before Hogwarts and perhaps she had been naive to think a sorting would not have changed much, but with a different house had come friends and experiences they had no longer shared. 

They had begun to change, in very different ways. 

Narcissa had gotten a stronger taste of the amount of privilege that came with being the heir of the Black family and had found she adored it. In the world her family had planned to be a part of building she’d be on top, and she’d wanted nothing less. Sirius, on the other hand, had seen what life could be like outside the boundaries of pureblood society and had come to fall in love with it. 

Those two worlds did not go together, as much as it had pained her to admit it. 

There had been a few moments throughout the school year when Narcissa had regained hope that maybe all wasn’t lost between them. When a shouting match between Rodolphus Lestrange and James Potter had quickly become dangerously close to a fight. Sirius had tried to hex her to best of his ability as a first-year student and, though the spell he had used would not have harmed her either way, had not been able to actually cast it directly at her. 

Sirius had stared at her, confused and surprised, and for a moment Narcissa had believed that maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to get back what they had before Hogwarts. Soulmate magic, she had assumed. Soulmates could not harm each other, not purposefully. 

The moment had disappeared as quickly as it had arrived when he shouted, “What the hell was that?!” Sirius’ voice had been angry and confused as if he genuinely hadn’t known what had happened.

Narcissa’s eyes had turned ice-cold, glaring at him as she, just to show it worked both ways, tried and failed to use a similar hex. “As if you don’t know.”

None of her friends had understood why she had been as furious as she had been for days after the event. She hadn’t told any of them yet, and most of them would never find out. 

oOo

_1972_

In the summer after their first year, to Narcissa’s surprise, it hadn’t felt as different between them as it had been at school. 

Within their family, things had gotten much tenser than either of them had been accustomed to, which she blamed on Sirius and his new friends without any doubt. Who else could have been the cause?

Though she had expected the tension in the family to only worsen their friendship, the first time Narcissa and her family had visited Grimmauld’s place, she and Sirius had once again fallen into a familiar pattern. She’d decided she would continue to call their relationship a friendship, not seeing the point in acknowledging the existing soulmate bond between them if Sirius did not either. 

They practiced minor jinxes on one another, with no intention of truly harming each other and therefore free to actually hit. Their parents had let them do as they pleased, saying it’d likely prove useful for the nearby future Protected by the wards around Black family estates, the laws of underage magic did not truly apply to them and they took full advantage that first summer, and the many after it. 

Hogwarts and their respective friends were never brought up. 

Narcissa hadn’t wanted to think about James Potter and Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew had even grown to strongly dislike the other Gryffindors that didn’t always appear with Sirius’ friends but often enough. 

That summer had given her no reason to because any mention of Sirius’ house had been dismissed early on with a threatening glance and a curse to accompany it. They had both learned quickly that fighting against that rule was not worth it. 

Halfway through the summer, there was a gala at Black Manor, Narcissa’s own ancestral home. All her friends and their parents had been invited, as had been expected, and none of Sirius’. They hadn’t spoken about that.

“I hate having to wear these,” Sirius had muttered in frustration, pointing down at the horribly expensive dress robes he had been wearing, Narcissa had looked up at him in surprise, but hadn’t disagreed. 

She’d looked at herself in the tall mirror for a moment before turning away, shrugging with a discomfort of which she hadn’t known the source. “Me too.”

_Sirius has not gotten over his hatred for the expensive dress robes and gowns of their old society. He has a problem with the idea behind them, and that can’t be fixed._

_Narcissa, on the other hand, came to adore dressing up and spending countless galleons on gowns and jewellery appropriate for a Pureblood event, as soon as she’d come to realise why she’d disliked the dress robes so much._

_When they have reason to, she goes all out, and though he rarely matches her Sirius never fails to tell her how gorgeous she looks._

At the ball, she’d danced with Alecto Carrow, just to be able to laugh over Rabastan’s face later, and had then gotten chastised by her mother for dancing with another wizard’s soulmate.

Next, she’d taken Elide Zabini for a dance, whose soulmate, much like her own, was not in their part of society according to common knowledge. Narcissa had liked dancing with Elide.

She and Sirius had been paraded around, shown off by their respective fathers for the whole of society to see. The future of their family, as if there’d been no problems beneath the surface at all.

Narcissa had learned quickly that that was just how their world dealt with issues such as rebellion and disobedience. Sirius’ growing distaste for anything related to the society they’d lived in was swept under the rug the moment the family had set foot in any event with the rest of the purebloods.

At the age of twelve, Sirius had at least managed to play along in public still. That would quickly change, too.

oOo

That summer Narcissa had spent hours upon hours in the Black library, reading through every book on soulmate magic she’d been able to find there. 

It had puzzled her more than she’d been able to express how awfully easy it had been for Sirius to pretend nothing was there between them, and it had left her with the nagging feeling there was something wrong with their marks. 

Sirius’ name was marked clearly on her wrist, invisible to anyone but her.

She’d found out it would remain invisible until the connection was acknowledged and accepted by both of them, and Narcissa had been glad for it because at the rate things were going, it meant she’d be able to marry a pureblood girl as she was supposed to without being worried that Sirius’ name might become visible one day. 

His name was on her wrist, but her name had not been on his. If he’d told her the truth, that was. Narcissa had trouble believing it, but she’d also known her cousin well enough to know he wasn’t so good at masking his feelings. Walburga had always been frustrated with him over it. 

She’d spent a whole summer trying to figure out if it was possible that their names were mismatched. That something had gone wrong. 

Narcissa had been right about her assumption that soulmates could not hurt each other, not on purpose, which when she considered it had meant that there really was no question about it: he’d not been able to hex her in first year.

Eventually, she’d given up trying to find an explanation more satisfactory than what seemed clear as day. He’d lied to her, as Narcissa supposed had been the best call. Unacknowledged and unaccepted, their marks would remain invisible, not getting in the way of the lives they’d have.

The magic burned in her chest, painfully so, and she’d pretended that was the only reason for the tears in her eyes.

_Narcissa lifts a mug of tea to her lips, eyes lingering for just a second at the mark on her wrist, visible for the world to see as it has been for years now._

_How wrong she’d been back then, she thinks with what could almost be counted as a smile. She pities that girl sometimes._

oOo

_1974_

Narcissa had been fourteen years old when she had, at last, confided to someone who her soulmate was. 

Rodolphus had come to her, first, more nervous than she had seen him before. They didn’t often talk back then, not about anything above a surface level of acceptable at least. He had been the closest friend she ever had, she ever would have, but they had been raised better than to discuss anything that might have compromised their reputation. 

It had come as a surprise to her when he had confessed the name of his soulmate. Not a pretty French name belonging to the daughter of one of his mother’s friends, but Augustus. Narcissa had not needed to ask who it was: everyone knew the popular captain of Slytherin’s quidditch team. 

Rodolphus had been on the team too, by then. A beater since second year, and he had been so good at it. Narcissa had asked if he’d ever spoken about it with Augustus himself and had not been surprised when her friend shook his head. 

As with her and Sirius, there was little doubt about the hopelessness of such a situation. 

“I’m sorry,” Narcissa had told him, and Rodolphus had just shrugged. 

“Any progress with yours?” He had asked her then, raising his eyebrows as he had pulled a small enchanted flask of firewhiskey out of his robes and took a sip before handing it to her. 

_Looking back now Narcissa can see the signs of the alcoholism her friend would later suffer from in those early years, but at the time she had had no idea that it wasn’t normal to carry a flask around at fourteen._

Narcissa had, on the day she had turned eleven and the Lestrange twins asked about her soulmate, told them a lie about a cousin on her mother’s side. Cynthia Rosier, who had lived in France at the time. It had been easy enough to keep up, seeing as she had only seen Cynthia Rosier three times in her life. 

If there had been a better moment to tell anyone about her true soulmate, at least Narcissa had the sense to realise it was then. With a sarcastic but nervous smile, she had nodded at the bruise on Rodolphus’ jaw from a fistfight he and Sirius had been in only a few days ago. The coincidence of it worked out well.

“It’s not Cynthia,” she had told him, quickly following her words with a sip from the flask Rodolphus had offered. To his credit, he hadn’t interrupted her when it took her a few moments to continue. “It’s Sirius, so I’m screwed.”

He had laughed at that, outright laughed, and it hadn’t been long before Narcissa had joined him. “That makes two of us, then,” Rodolphus had said, shaking his head. He’d taken back the flask and grinned at her when she’d let herself fall back on the bed with a sigh. 

“Wonderful, isn’t it?”  
“Just perfect.”

oOo

_1975_

Over the summer before their fifth year, Narcissa and Sirius had spent two weeks at her uncle Alphard’s, hidden away from the rest of their society in an enormous townhouse in London. Far enough away from the rest of the family to feel more at ease, not far enough to forget who they were and what they would become.

She’d loved every second of it. 

Alphard had seemed to Narcissa the ideal between the world she had grown up in and the world that had always been so forbidden. He had always trodden the line between those worlds in a way that angered the other adults in their family and fascinated the younger ones. Sirius and Narcissa had been no exception.

The best of both worlds, Sirius had called it. The phrase had made uncle Alphard laugh heartily, and made Narcissa ponder just what that other world consisted of. What could be added to their own society to make it better than this forbidden fruit?

During those two weeks, Alphard had, in passing more than to the two cousins specifically, mentioned a dear friend of his had just made the changing of his name official, and that he must send a fine bottle of elf made port to the man to congratulate him.

Sirius had grinned and asked what about a bottle of port made it ‘fine’, Narcissa hadn’t been able to keep the changing of one’s name out of her mind for the rest of the summer. 

She’d spend her fifth year at Hogwarts avoiding Sirius and making her way through every library book she’d guessed might have something useful. Every book on transfiguration and laws and history and her own beloved pureblood society she could find. 

Narcissa’s heart had pounded out of her chest when she’d first opened a dated book on the history of queer witches and wizards, carefully transfigured to appear to be on dark potions before she even dared to bring it back to her table in the back of the library.

The book, and the ones she had risked opening after she’d finished the first, had been filled with documented history and biographies of other people’s lives. Narcissa would have read wide-eyed if she hadn’t been so aware of where she was and _who_ she was to show her reactions so clearly.

She’d returned to the library time and time again, reading the same books from front to back over and over again, until Rodolphus had grown tired of teasing her for how studious she’d become and until she’d begun to notice Sirius had started spending more time in the library as well.

More time meaning she had never seen him there before fifth year. Realistically speaking she knew he’d have to have visited before, but Sirius had always been naturally gifted at a lot of things, and that had always seemed to include getting by in school without spending much time at all in a place as quiet as a library.

Week by week she had begun to notice he’d come in more often, and more often than not their eyes would meet for a moment when he entered the library. He would always grin at her and she would always shake her head slightly but smile back.

Narcissa had always ignored the little sting that came with it, she’d suspected so had he. 

After a while, Sirius had joined her at her table in the back. He’d immediately handed her a chocolate frog under the table and laughed at how scandalised she’d looked. “I know there’s no food allowed, stuck-up prick, stop looking at me like that and eat. Pince isn’t watching us.”

Narcissa had rolled her eyes at him, rather uncharacteristically, and that had made him laugh too. She’d hated him for it, but not really.

She had ended up eating that chocolate frog, and it had taken her a while to forget how handsome Sirius looked when he smirked with the triumph that he’d done. 

“You know OWLs are like, months away, right?” Sirius had then asked her, and his teasing tone reminded her of the way Rodolphus had taunted her before he’d accepted that she wasn’t bothered by it. 

Sirius had taken a closer look at the title of her book, and for a moment Narcissa’s heart had stopped when she’d imagined his reaction if the charm she’d placed on it would suddenly falter. That hadn’t happened. As if her magic would betray her like that. “I don’t even think that’s for the OWLs. Restricted section? My picture-perfect cousin? How’d you get that done?”

Narcissa had shaken her head with an incredulous look and had closed her book, raising her eyebrows at Sirius in a way that suggested he was a fool for even asking. “When one spends his time throwing dung bombs at professors, he’d nearly forget they’re thrice as useful if they actually like you. Slughorn and Vector let me do as I please.”

“Who knew it could pay to be a goody-two-shoes all the time?”  
“Not you, that’s for certain.”

They had had more of those conversations during fifth year, and at the time it had felt so good that Narcissa had nearly allowed herself to forget about the fact that it could never be between them. They’d seemingly made that decision ages ago already.

Secretly she’d nearly preferred the days she had his company over the days she spend reading alone because when Sirius had been around she had an excuse not to think about the dawning realisation that there was a solution to all the discomfort she’d felt over the years, one that she’d been terrified to even consider.

Narcissa had read and read and had then read some more, but after time even she couldn’t find any more reason to deny the truth that was right there in front of her. The stories, the real-life stories of people who’d lived it before her, of those witches and wizards who’d one day changed their name and changed the way people addressed them and in many cases changed the way they appeared.

She’d found story after story, not all that many but more than she’d have dared to hope, but barely any of them featured any members of well-known pureblood families. There was hardly a name she’d recognised.

None of the stories mentioned the duties and the responsibilities and the expectations she had grown up with, and none of the people in these stories seemed to correspond to what _her_ family would say, to what _she_ would be throwing away. They didn’t mention what she’d do to her family with this.

Right there in front of her, but out of reach regardless.

oOo

_1975_

She’d come out to Rodolphus a little over a month after she’d discovered it. 

Narcissa hadn’t thought she’d ever been so nervous as when they’d sat down together in the empty dormitories. Her heart had felt as if it had been about to pound out of her chest while her hands had been sweating uncharacteristically before she’d even managed to get out a single word.

Rodolphus had told her she looked as if she were about to inform him she was dying, which had lightened the mood only slightly. 

“If my family finds out, I just might be,” she’d joked, but though she’d tried to laugh her heart had sunk a little knowing she wasn’t as far off from the likely truth as she’d have preferred to be. 

He’d chuckled, but had quickly looked more worried than before. “What the hell are you planning, then?”

After that, the words had poured out more quickly than Narcissa had expected, and she hadn’t felt like she’d made sense at all. When she’d looked up at Rodolphus, a loose tear on her cheek and her eyes wide and cautious, she’d forced herself to expect the worst. 

This was her best friend, a boy she trusted like a brother, and even though part of her remembered the promise they’d made each other years ago, the more pessimistic, the more rational, part of her brain told herself that she’d made a mistake ever bringing it up. 

Narcissa had felt like she needed his acceptance more than anyone else’s, and in the silence that followed her slightly incoherent string of words she mentally ran through all the worst outcomes of this. 

The thought that she’d be good enough to obliviate him before he could tell anyone else crossed her mind for a moment. She thanked Salazar when Rodolphus chose that time to respond.

“You’re not joking are you?” He’d asked, his expression both concerned and careful, as if he hadn’t been sure whether she was pulling his leg or not. 

Narcissa had shaken her head, but she hadn’t known what else to tell him. She wasn’t joking. In other parts of their world, those not associated with the pureblood society the pair of them had grown up in, something like this would have been alright, accepted with not so little question. Despite that fact, she’d be a fool to joke about it in their own circumstances. 

Nothing mattered as much as the heir to a pureblood family, and especially one as prosperous and important as the house of Black. She’d be out of her mind to even joke about not being that heir, and Rodolphus knew it too.

“Are you going to... you know?” Rodolphus hadn’t looked her in the eye immediately. It’d stung a bit. 

Narcissa had shaken her head again. “I’m not sure,” she’d whispered. It felt heavy to admit. “I want to. It- it feels like I need to, really. But-”

She’d fallen silent but Rodolphus had understood what she’d been wanting to say. He’d nodded. “It’s going to cause one hell of a scandal if you do.”

“You could say that.” Narcissa had answered, her voice deadpan and more defeated than she’d meant it to sound. She’d thought about the biographies she’d read, about the stories in those books about all those people with such different lives than her.

It hadn’t compared to this.

“I have two older sisters,” she’d started, and part of her had wanted to snap at Rodolphus for not looking at her but part of her was scared of what she’d see if he would. “I have two sisters, and I am father’s only— If I- I can’t. Can I?”

Narcissa hadn’t truly wanted him to respond to that question. To Rodolphus’ credit, he hadn’t.

She’d leaned back against the headboard of her bed and had closed her eyes with a sigh. Narcissa had been able to feel Rodolphus shift closer to her, and when she’d briefly opened her eyes she saw him sit cross-legged on the edge of her bed, staring at her with concern more than anything else.

That was better than her initial fears, she’d figured. 

“If you’re even considering that… It’s bad, isn’t it? This- feeling?” Rodolphus had sounded cautious when he asked as if he hadn’t been sure how to ask anything at all. 

It’d been a while since talking to him had felt difficult, and Narcissa hadn’t appreciated the feeling at all. She’d gotten used to how easy it normally was to discuss things with him, regardless of what it was they’d talk about. 

She’d begun to miss that the moment it had felt like she’d lost it.

Narcissa had nodded in response, not really sure how to talk to her friend about this now that her initial waterfall of words had stopped pouring out of her. “It’s bad,” she’d just confirmed, but she hadn’t really needed to. Rodolphus had known that much.

He’d known as well as she had that there were risks involved in any deviation from the norm within their society, any at all, and this wasn’t something to be taken lightly. Part of Narcissa had wished he’d kept up the pretence of that a little longer, but she’d known she couldn’t expect that of him. 

Rodolphus had never liked to take things too seriously, but most of the time he’d known where to draw the line. He’d drawn it well in this case, but she’d half wished he hadn’t. 

“Okay then.”

He’d always been direct, and most of the time Narcissa had never had a problem deciphering the deeper meaning of whatever short statements he’d given her. This time she’d felt like cursing herself for not feeling comfortable assuming what he’d meant. 

Her doubt must have been obvious in her expression because Rodolphus grinned at her and shrugged in that familiar ‘it’s going to be fine’ way of his before he further explained himself. “Sounds like you’re going to need a friend.”

oOo

Roughly two weeks after she had come out to Rodolphus, things between them had gone back to normal. She’d been terribly grateful for it.

He’d been the first person to know, and it had meant the world to her that despite being utterly confused by it all, he hadn’t strayed from her side. 

After those two weeks, they’d been up in the dormitories one evening when she’d handed him a short list. It had just been the two of them, missing out on dinner with the intention of catching up on a potions essay that had been abandoned after no more than fifteen minutes.

Rodolphus had raised his eyebrows at her, looked over the list, and grinned. They’d been names she’d considered, and Narcissa had been determined to settle that matter before thinking about telling her family, and the rest of their world. 

“Can I comment, or do I just try them out?”

“Do whatever,” she’d told him tensely, but his careless grin eased her nerves a little.

_He’d always had a way of making anything feel easy, and she’d always appreciated his ability to be lighthearted about anything at all. Narcissa appreciates that trait of him to this day, even if it’s been a while since it’s helped her._

Rodolphus had taken out that same enchanted flask from his robes and taken a sip, then offered it to her. “Something about how nervous you look tells me you could use a bit, Astraea. That’s not a star is it?” 

She’d rolled her eyes, but she’d been smiling when she took the flask from her friend. Rodolphus had been right, of course. “It’s not, not really. It means star, and the person it belonged to got transfigured into the constellation we call Virgo today. No star is named after it, though.”

“Are any of them following that tradition of yours?”

Narcissa had shaken her head. She’d made that decision on purpose. Rodolphus had just grinned at her. “Conceited tradition anyway.”

“Says Rodolphus Ameinias Iago Lestrange?”

“Point taken,” he’d laughed. “But in any case, Aglaia don’t you think we ought to be working on that essay?”

They’d continued like that for a while, and he’d told her he didn’t think Melaina or Aglaia suited her, but that he thought Astraea and Narcissa both worked rather well. Eventually, she’d decided against settling for one that same night, but by then they’d worked through the little flask of firewhiskey and were discussing the upcoming Quidditch match. 

Narcissa had a feeling that’d been a good call.

oOo

_1976_

By the time she’d come out to her parents, five months had passed since she’d first spoken to Rodolphus.

Five months that had been filled with her going back and forth between wanting nothing more than to come out and see what would happen next, and to tell Rodolphus to pretend she’d never said anything to begin with. 

In the end, she’d been forced to accept the latter simply wasn’t an option. Not a realistic one in any case. That realisation had made the decision easier, certainly, but it hadn’t felt that way. 

Narcissa had anticipated the worst.

Before even thinking about bringing up anything to either of her parents she had set aside money in her personal vault. Money that belonged to her already, that was hers by law because in the world’s eyes she’d still been Cygnus Black’s heir, but that would be safely hers if it was in her own vault if anything should happen.

She’d been taught about the family tree since she’d been old enough to read. Members of their family had been burned off of it for lesser crimes. Narcissa didn’t want to dwell on the possibility too much, but she was forced to be realistic and recognise that it had not been out of the question at all. 

_Narcissa knows all too well that it was mostly her father’s doing that had prevented her worst nightmares from coming true. He’d always had such faith in her, and she’d always been a favourite of his._

_She doesn’t like to imagine what would have happened if he’d been less inclined to argue with her mother, but she supposes, in the end, she’d have come to this same place. It’s likely she would’ve found it earlier, but at the time it had been the greatest relief that her father had had her back, and her place in the family had been safe._

Naively, Narcissa had expected Druella to be the more forgiving of the two, and therefore she’d first spoken to her mother. She hadn’t thought she’d been able to handle both her parents at the same time.

From the moment she’d begun speaking, her mother had looked at her with a disapproval that Narcissa had already grown used to a long time ago but that hadn’t yet stopped hurting. Her father’s favourite she’d always been, but her mother’s expectations had always felt just out of reach. 

Druella’s demands of what she was to become and how she was to behave had always felt that way: something Narcissa had always felt the need to live up to, something that she’d always wanted to become for herself, and something that had always looked less impossible than it had been. 

It had only become worse after her coming out, but it’d always been there. Her expectations were just in reach enough to look attainable, but in reality, could have never been met. 

_Narcissa’s relieved she has since stopped trying to live up to what she can now recognise as impossible and ridiculous standards, but it’s undeniable that the way Druella had gone about it back then has left its mark on her even today._

_Sirius seems angrier about it than she is, but it’s always been that way with their family._

Her mother’s reaction had betrayed that she’d understood perfectly well what Narcissa had been trying to say, even though she’d felt like she hadn’t quite been able to explain herself as well as she would have liked. Druella had never brought out the best in her.

After her initial comments, while Narcissa had been speaking, telling her to “hurry up,” and “spit it out already, you’ve been taught better than this,” Druella had simply stared at her for a few moments that had felt like they were going to last forever. 

There had been no confusion in her mother’s expression, no attempt to make sense of what her daughter had told her because there’d been no need to. There’d only been disapproval and cold-hearted anger that Narcissa knew so well. She’d adopted that look from her mother, after all, and had always appreciated the dread it brought forth in others. 

Narcissa had appreciated it less so when it was used on her, worse than she’d remembered it to be. 

“I am going to give you fifteen seconds to take back everything you have just said to me. If you do not, your father will be informed and I can guarantee you that you will not be spending another night in this house, do I make myself clear?”

Narcissa hadn’t said a word, which had come across as defiance to her mother but had really been caused by the tears building up behind her eyes and in her throat. Druella had left the room without addressing her again. 

The yelling had begun a mere ten minutes later, and where at first Narcissa had feared the sound of it she had quickly realised that had meant there’d been something to argue about. Her father had put up a fight, and one in her favour.

Their parents had always gotten along splendidly. 

There’d been disagreements, as there would always be, and they had most often been about the way they had raised their daughters. These disagreements had never resulted in arguments of this size. 

It’d been the summer holidays and that had meant that both Andromeda and Bellatrix had been at home with them, neither of whom had had any idea what their parents had been arguing about. 

During the hours before dinner that night, her sisters had tried to catch bits and pieces from what Druella and Cygnus were yelling at each other. Narcissa had avoided them until dinner because the main idea that they understood from the argument was that whatever it was, it’d been her, and it’d been bad. 

Contrary to Druella’s earlier words to her, Narcissa had been there during dinner and she had stayed the night. Perhaps her mother would have been glad to know that she’d nearly wished she wasn’t due to the unbearable tension between them during the meal. 

Andromeda had been wise enough to stay silent but had spent the entirety of dinner giving Narcissa supportive smiles. She might not have known what it had been that had caused this reaction in their parents yet, but she’d always been a bit of a rebel. 

_Narcissa hadn’t had a clue just how much, at the time. Looking back she thinks Andy might have hoped that she would take the same path as her and run herself._

_At the time that thought hadn’t crossed her mind, so grateful had she’d been to even be allowed to stay._

_Things change, Narcissa muses, but she doesn’t quite smile at the thought._

Bellatrix hadn’t been quite as willing to shut up and take the tension as it was, and her demands for an explanation had only made Druella more furious. With a hissed “Why don’t you ask your brother?” she had left the table before she had finished her plate.

That had been the most unmannered thing her daughters had ever witnessed her do. It’d been a shock to all three of them. 

Before Bella and Andy had had a chance to ask her anything, Cygnus had directed the three girls back to their respective plates in a tone that had both been exhausted, but commanding as they had been used to from their father. 

Narcissa had caught the smile he’d sent her way, and that had been enough of a reassurance for that night.

oOo

Three weeks after Narcissa had told them, she hadn’t thought Cygnus and Druella would ever stop yelling at each other. 

She’d owled the Lestrange twins, whose combined response added up to be “at least it’s not at you,” but after one week that too had changed. In Druella’s case at least.

Within the first week, her father had come to see her in her room. He’d locked and silenced the room which had led Narcissa to assume her mother wasn’t aware of his visit. She’d been right. 

They’d talked for over an hour and she’d been embarrassed to have found herself crying before him, but Cygnus had not seemed to mind. 

“Are you certain about this?” He’d asked her, and Narcissa had been touched to find his voice just as gentle, just as filled with genuine care as it had always been when he spoke to her. She’d always been his favourite, and she’d always attributed that to her being his heir.

Perhaps she’d been wrong because when she’d told him in a defeated voice that he didn’t have to feel obligated to pretend to be alright with it, her father had shaken his head sternly. “I’m not,” he’d told her in a voice that suggested she ought not to argue. 

Narcissa had argued anyway. “Not pretending, or not alright?” and he’d chuckled at her defiant tone. 

“A little bit of both, I’d say.”

She’d accepted that answer.

_Cygnus had understood from the beginning that her coming out to the family had never been the beginning of her decision. He’d realised from the start that the fact that she’d told them at all had meant her mind had already been made up. Narcissa’s heart flutters at that knowledge._

_He’d known before he’d asked that she was certain, and she suspects he’d just needed to hear her say it out loud._

From that moment on, she’d never doubted again that he was in her corner. 

Her father hadn’t been happy about losing his heir, but a year later he would tell her that he’d seen it as having two options. Both entailed losing the son he’d thought he had, but one of them allowed him to be just as proud of his youngest daughter.

He’d had a hard time coming to terms with it, but he’d ensured her it had never been a difficult decision.

Druella had been a different case entirely. Narcissa’s parents had not stopped yelling at each other after those three weeks. At least Cygnus had never ceased in his support of her. 

_Narcissa hates to dwell on her mother for too long and banishes the thought of her as well as it goes before it takes her up._

The day after her conversation with her father, Sirius and Regulus had come to visit with their parents. Sirius had slipped her mind completely for those few days, but hearing his voice had brought back a lot of memories she’d had over the past months.

Hadn’t he told her the name on his wrist had been that of a girl he hadn’t known?

For a while now Narcissa hadn’t been able to get it out of her head that maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t been lying to her at all.

She hadn’t told anyone but Rodolphus and Rabastan her name yet, wanting Sirius to hear it directly from her because she wanted to see his reaction for herself. Her father and sisters had been told she hadn’t decided yet. Druella hadn’t asked.

It hadn’t surprised any of the cousins when it’d taken precisely a minute and a half for their parents to begin yelling at each other. 

Narcissa’s mother had blamed Walburga and Orion for raising Sirius the wrong way because in her eyes he’d been a bad influence on her. Walburga hadn’t taken the accusation lightly. 

Sirius and Narcissa had hidden away in her bedroom as soon as they’d been excused from the drawing-room by an exhausted-looking Cygnus. 

Once there, the first thing he’d done was let himself fall back onto her bed and look up at Narcissa with a proud and playful grin. “Nice job on that one. I rarely get them that riled up.”

She’d been quite sure he knew exactly how much she hated being the cause of these fights, but Narcissa had appreciated his attempt at cheering her up nonetheless. 

Sirius had laughed at her expression but he hadn’t meant it in a hurtful way and he’d looked so handsome doing it that she hadn’t cared at all.

“So, dear cousin mine, do you have a new name you go by now?” 

“Narcissa. Narcissa Adresteia Black.”

The laughter disappeared from his face. Sirius had gotten off the bed and turned away from her, but he’d asked her a few more questions in a constrained voice through gritted teeth before the actual fight broke loose.

_There are two fights she’s had with Sirius over the years that Narcissa doesn’t believe she’ll ever forget, and this had been the first of them._

_It had all been one big misunderstanding, they can see that now, but they hadn’t seen it as clearly at the time._

oOo

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?!”

Narcissa hadn’t often seen Sirius this angry, and she had blamed it on the magic between them that it filled her with pride to know he cared so much, no matter how furiously he was yelling at her now. 

His eyes flashed to his wrist and though Narcissa couldn’t see his tattoo she had already known, so certainly, that the name he was reading there had always been Narcissa. 

It had always been Narcissa. 

“I thought you knew!” She had yelled back defensively, and to her, that had made perfect sense. How could he have expected her to assume otherwise?

“How the fuck was I supposed to have known that? I told you! I TOLD you it was a girl’s name that I didn’t recognise!”

That was the first time Narcissa had noticed he spat a little when he yelled, but she’d never stopped noticing it in the years to come. 

Years later she would realise it was a key characteristic of their arguments. Sirius hadn’t been as angry at the beginning of their fight as he had been at the end of it, and it’d been all because of the way they provoked each other. 

They couldn’t harm one another, the bond between them prevented that from happening, but the Black blood flowed through both their veins and it was no secret in their world that Black blood came with fire and a touch of madness. 

So Sirius had laughed, a barking and angry laugh right in her face, and he’d shaken his head and they’d yelled at each other more. Never had Narcissa been so grateful for silencing charms in the manor’s rooms. 

They’d screamed at each other, yelled until her throat had begun to sting, until he was out of breath and panting in between shouted words until there were tears in both their eyes and they could both feel the magic within them sting painfully.

Soulmate magic. A fight as ugly as this had come too close to harm.

It had taken only a few moments, then. 

One moment he’d been looking at her with wild grey eyes and beads of sweat in his face, breathing too heavily and standing too close to her. 

The next moment Narcissa’s eyes had fallen down to his cracked lips and she’d resisted the urge to comment that he ought to take better care of himself before judging her on anything. She’d felt the urge to say _something_ , though. Anything at all. 

“You’re my soulmate. Sirius.”

She’d put all the emphasis on his name. Sirius had rolled his eyes. 

“Shut the fuck up, Narcissa.”

With that, he’d kissed her. 

She’d shared her first kiss three years earlier with Elide Zabini behind the Quidditch bleachers, but this time there’d been a glittering of magic around them that they’d both felt and neither of them had witnessed. 

Magic, because they’d always been meant for this. 

Magic that surrounded them when Sirius probed her lips apart with a gentleness that surprised her and an experience that offended her greatly. Magic that had told her that despite the horrible fight they’d been having moments earlier, this was exactly where she was meant to be.

The gentle way in which he’d begun their kiss had disappeared as soon as she returned it, and the next thing she’d registered clearly had been his hands cupping her face to pull her closer. His tongue that pushed past her parted lips and met her own, the forceful touch when he’d moved one of his hands to the back of her neck and she hadn’t ever wanted to stop him. 

Narcissa had flung her arms around his neck and she’d secretly been glad that he’d seemed to know what to do a whole lot better than she did. His experience might have offended her a little, but for the time being, it had meant she’d been able to lose herself completely in that first kiss. 

She’d let him kiss her as he’d seen fit and it had felt out of the ordinary to give into another person so wholeheartedly but it had only felt good and natural.

She’d known life wasn’t going to be that easy, but for a few moments, she’d let herself believe that from that point on she’d be gaining a whole lot of experience herself kissing Sirius Black for the rest of her life.

_Part of her had been right, Narcissa supposes. The way things are looking now she will indeed be spending a great deal of her life kissing Sirius, and she wouldn’t have it any other way._

_Things hadn’t always been that simple, and Narcissa now isn’t naive enough to believe that the world won’t just throw something else at them that will thwart all the plans they make, but they’ve already come a long way since that first kiss._

_She’s ever grateful for it, despite everything else that’s happened since._

Narcissa had been so caught up in the nearly overwhelming feeling of Sirius’ lips against hers that she hadn’t noticed the sensation of magic against her wrist until he’d pulled away from her. 

She’d been out of breath when their eyes had met, grinning more nervously than she’d have preferred to be, but then her gaze had been forced to her wrist only to find nothing had changed. Narcissa had frowned, looked over at Sirius, and saw the change on his wrist instead. 

The names on their wrist would have remained invisible to everyone but themselves if their connection had never been acknowledged nor accepted by the both of them. Finally, after so long, they had done exactly that. 

Narcissa’s eyes had been transfixed on the name on his wrist. _Her_ name, in elegant black letters against his skin, the way he had always seen it. 

“Soulmates...” She’d breathed out, and Sirius had chuckled. 

“Soulmates,” he’d echoed, and Narcissa had smiled when he’d pecked her lips for a second. “Don’t be mistaken, I’m still pissed at you.”

She hadn’t expected anything else, but he’d said it with a grin so she hadn’t been worried. “I can live with that.”

oOo

_1976_

Returning to Hogwarts for her sixth year had been a relief and a nerve-wracking experience all at once. 

Narcissa had been relieved beyond compare to have a break from her mother’s endless criticism that had only seemed to get worse the more it had become obvious that she’d been alone in her opinions. On their side of the family, at least, but since Druella still hadn’t stopped blaming Walburga’s own parenting skills for her own daughter’s ‘defiance’, it hadn’t made much of a difference.

Her father had hugged her goodbye with a kiss pressed to her forehead and his familiar smile that had always reminded her of the advice he’d given her countless times as a child. ‘The world is yours, you just have to take it.’

She’d been nervous, too. 

Word, and gossip most of all, spread through their society like Fiendfyre. Everyone would have picked the news of her coming out by then, and though Narcissa had grown up in that world and she’d been used to the scrutiny that had come up with being the Black heir, this had been a whole different kind.

She’d been taught better than to show her nerves. Narcissa had boarded the Hogwarts Express with one of the Lestrange twins on either side and her head held high, a small pendant that had belonged to Lycoris Black, had been given to aunt Walburga at her wedding, who had recently given it to Bellatrix because she’d lacked daughters of her own. 

Bella had given it to her before they’d left for the station and though Narcissa had hidden it from their mother she wore it proudly the instant Druella was gone. 

The twins, ever subtle, had complimented her several times already in the short amount of time they’d been on the train. Ranging from the pendant around her neck to her newly dyed black and white hair that had begun to fall past her shoulders. Narcissa had loved them for it, certainly, but after a while, she’d told the pair of them to shut up.

They’d been joined in their compartment by Lucius Malfoy and Antonin Dolohov, both friends she’d made in her first year, and neither of them had really known what to say to her. She’d accepted it for the time being. 

Narcissa had never been more grateful for the power her last name held than during sixth year. 

She hadn’t been naive enough to believe that between all the purebloods in Slytherin House, there wouldn’t be a few people who would share her mother’s hatred, but it had hardly mattered because in pureblood society nothing mattered as much as family. 

Narcissa had always enjoyed the respect that the name Black commanded from people, but she’d never been so relieved for the safety it brought her. Thickheaded as some purebloods were, none of them had been foolish enough than to openly disrespect a member of the house of Black. 

Students who weren’t pureblood and had therefore not had the automatic admiration for her and her family had not always been quite as easy, but as weirdly vulnerable as Narcissa had felt at times, in the end, it had hardly mattered. Who cared about a mudblood’s opinion when one enjoyed the respect of the most important members of society?

During sixth year she and Sirius had only sometimes met up in secret, and she’d grown steadily annoyed with Sirius’ insistence that it be kept secret still. She’d understand well enough why that might have been, and she’d hated it.

The moment their family would have found out about their bond, there would be a very likely decision that they’d be engaged not too long after. Her mother had already been making an endless series of ‘well-meant’ comments voicing her concern about Narcissa ever finding a husband, and it hadn’t been a secret aunt Walburga had been worried for years if Sirius would even agree to get properly married at all.

A soulmate connection between two disappointments of the family would have been exactly what they would want. 

That apparently hadn’t matched up with Sirius’ own ideas about his future, and that thought had hurt and infuriated Narcissa more than once. It had seemed a logical next step to her, but they’d never quite agreed on the ways of their society.

oOo

_1977_

The summer after her sixth year, it had felt as if Druella only tried harder to make her regret ever having come out. Narcissa had turned seventeen and had spent more hours locked in her room than she had cared to admit to anyone.

Eventually, having had enough, she'd paid Rodolphus a visit.

She had arrived at Lestrange Manor at a moment's notice, perfectly put together as was expected of her.

Narcissa had always been welcome at the manor, had always been a cherished friend of the brothers Lestrange and a respected guest of their parents.

When she'd flooed into the drawing-room, perfectly put together with a polite smile and not a hair out place, she'd been nervous still, not sure how much had changed in the eyes of Adrastia Lestrange and her husband.

She hadn't needed to worry.

"Cissa!" Rodolphus had called out when he'd looked up from his book, and she had decided to ignore it was a book all about dark magic. 

He had looked her over once, and she'd recognised the worry plain as day in his eyes, but had been grateful he hadn't commented. Instead, he'd grinned at her, made his elf put the book away, and had launched into an overly excited retelling of the birth of a filly earlier that summer.

To no one's surprise, Rodolphus had been leading her to the stables a mere fifteen minutes later.

_She can't help but find it curious, even today, that it was the same man and the same hands who had murdered all those innocents that had also treated that beautiful little filly with such gentle care._

_Narcissa tries for that to be the first thing she thinks of when she reads Rodolphus' name in the prophet: the love he had for those winged horses of his and no less how he'd always been there for her no matter what._

The filly had been as pretty as he'd promised her. An Abraxan with a light golden coat and darker wings, shyly walking around in a paddock by herself. 

Her mother had died giving birth to her. Narcissa had hated herself for thinking the filly was lucky, but the thought was tossed aside quickly when the foal nudged her nose into Narcissa's hand.

She'd never understood the immense passion Rodolphus held for these winged horses, but even Narcissa had been forced to admit that was a nice feeling.

oOo

Sirius and she had argued more often than not over the summer before their seventh year. 

It had become an endless cycle of tolerating her mother’s abuse to nearly a breaking point, which would always cause Sirius’ eternal worry for her to turn to frustration because she had never made any intention of doing something about it. Their arguments only made her feel worse, which on rare occasions let to her composure slipping, which had always given Druella just another reason to scrutinise her. 

Narcissa had never wanted to admit how her mother had made her feel during that time, not even to Sirius or Rodolphus who’d clearly been able to see right through her lies. Part of her hadn’t even realised, either. It’d been so much easier to pretend it was alright than to have admit that she couldn’t even make Druella proud of her. 

That had always been something she’d dreamt of. 

It had begun as a child, as the heir of her family where she’d been expected to be nothing but absolute and utmost perfection, the pride and joy of her parents wherever she’d gone. Druella had never really been satisfied. 

Narcissa hadn’t expected that to improve at all after she’d come out, but perhaps she’d been naive to assume it wouldn’t be this much worse. 

During the summer, but during the school year that had come before it as well, it had felt like the more Narcissa had bent over backwards to conform herself to all the rules and all the expectations of the society they’d lived in, the more Sirius had rebelled against everything there’d been to rebel against. 

Over the summer, despite the temperature, she’d never once seen him without one the leather jackets he’d picked up in muggle shops. He’d been loudly singing muggle songs she’d never recognised whenever she’d seen him, and she’d overheard Walburga loudly complaining to her mother about the posters of muggle girls he’d apparently put on his wall. 

It shouldn’t have made her laugh, maybe, but it had. 

Sirius in his turn had tried to bring out more of the rebel in her, and together they’d dyed her hair into the black and white style she’d worn it in ever since. Narcissa had adored it up until the moment Druella had caught sight of it, but the consequences of that little bit of rebellion aside, she’d loved the look of her hair since then.

The more he had rebelled and the more she hadn’t, the more frustrated they had grown with each other.

It had been painfully obvious that they’d been on the way to make very different choices in life, even if she hadn’t allowed herself to acknowledge the actual extent of Sirius’ future plans yet, and neither of them had really known how to handle that. Communication in any other form than argument hadn’t exactly run in the family. 

They’d argued about their future and about Narcissa’s desire to tell the family about the soulmate connection between them and get it over with, knowing full well what would happen if they would. They’d fought over how the family treated them and he’d tried time and time again to convince her that the way her mother spoke to her had never been and would never be alright.

She’d refused to listen every time he had, and that had only brought forth more arguments. But despite the many fights between them, Narcissa could not have been more grateful about his presence and his continuous support of her. Angry as they’d both been, she’d needed him there as much as he had needed her, and they had gotten each other through it after all.

oOo

_1977_

When Sirius had told the family about their soulmate bond, he’d done it not because he had had any intention of marrying her, but to loudly defend her against his own parents. 

He and Aunt Walburga had been screaming at each other for what had felt like hours over dinner. It hadn’t been long before the other parents joined in, as well as Bellatrix. Andromeda and Narcissa had shared exhausted looks from across the table.

He’d yelled out something about her name, that it’d always been her name on his wrist, Narcissa hadn’t exactly been listening to every word being thrown around. Not until the whole family went silent at once, gaping at her and Sirius. 

“Excuse me?” Druella had brought out, somehow managing to sound threatening even when visibly taken aback. “Soulmates? Why is this the first time we hear of this?”

Her tone had been accusing, degrading, a voice Narcissa had grown all too used to over the years. She’d never quite been able to respond to that tone in any other way than to just resign herself to whatever Druella would be yelling about. 

Her sisters had stared at her, surprised and it had looked like Bella hadn’t been sure whether to curse Sirius for this or to celebrate what she’d been sure would be a quick engagement. Narcissa hadn’t looked either of them directly in the eye, instead choosing to stare at her plate until her mother had finished yelling at her and turned to the rest of the family. 

Walburga and Druella, how else could it have gone, had begun to yell at each other then. Sirius had looked at her with what she’d chosen to read as being apologetic, but she had also not looked at him for the time being. 

Eventually, Cygnus had quieted the room, commanding respect when he’d gotten out of his chair and held up both his hands. He’d smiled briefly at her, and that had made everything a little better. 

“Druella, darling, Walburga, what is there to argue about?” Her father had begun, followed by giving into both their arguments just enough to satisfy their rage. There’d been something about she and Sirius having made a mistake by keeping this quiet indeed, but that had been done and now there was only one solution in his eyes. “Druella, have you not been worried about finding a suitable husband for your youngest daughter?”

Though Druella had muttered something about Walburga’s son being hardly suitable, she’d given in quickly. The ring had come the next day from uncle Orion’s vault in Gringotts, but the engagement had been settled that same evening. 

Short as it might have lasted, Narcissa had been over the moon for just a while.

For precious short-lived bliss, Narcissa had been happy as she could be about being engaged.

oOo

Sirius had in secret, despite it no longer being necessary, dragged her into Black Manor’s ballroom one occasion after the engagement had been made official and public. Though the need for such secrecy hadn’t been there any longer, it felt more private and more special to still have no one be aware of their occasional escapades. 

He’d charmed the gramophone in the corner to play the classical music they’d been taught to dance to, and Narcissa hadn’t been able to keep her eyes away from him when he’d pulled her into a dance. To her, it seemed he’d only grown prettier when they’d gotten engaged.

Sirius had twirled her around and laughed when she’d nearly tripped because of his enthusiasm, well-meaning and kind laughter that practically forced her to laugh along. He’d stolen a kiss the moment she’d rebalanced herself, and for a minute the dancing was forgotten. 

The privacy of the ballroom had reminded her of their shared dance lessons as children, being taught all the steps and positions to show off just how properly raised they’d been. Narcissa had always liked that, she’d always enjoyed how put-together the etiquette of their society was, but Sirius had never kept it silent that the lessons bored him to no end. 

He’d seemed to enjoy dancing with her like this a whole lot more, and Narcissa couldn’t stop herself from smiling at that thought when they shared a second and then immediately a third kiss. 

“And now...” Sirius had said after a while, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he grinned at her. He hadn’t let go of her waist but had freed one arm to wave his wand at the gramophone. Immediately it had begun to play a song she didn’t recognise and taking one look at Sirius’ elated expression Narcissa had to assume it was muggle. 

She should’ve hated that, but as though she’d been charmed by either the music or her fiance Narcissa hadn’t hesitated a moment when Sirius drastically changed the way in which they danced. 

Sirius’ hands had been on her hips at first and then on her back, scandalously low but she’d never stopped him, had never wanted him to stop. Narcissa had laughed and threw her arms around his neck and allowed him to swing her along to the music until she’d been out of breath, and then she’d let him kiss her again and again and again until she was certain that regardless of the soulmate magic she would never be as happy with anyone but Sirius.

This was what she’d loved most about him: this reminder of what he’d once said when they’d visited uncle Alphard. Best of both worlds. 

Narcissa had dreamt of spending the rest of her life in luxurious mansions and ballrooms, forever part of pureblood society’s elite on the arm of her one and only. The prospect of combining that with Sirius’ never-ending streak of rebellion to that exact world, of dancing to muggle music in royally decorated ballrooms with him, had felt like everything she had never dared to dream about coming true.

He hadn’t felt the same way: he'd wanted her forever and always but he'd wanted her away from everything that had to do with pureblood society and he hadn't been about to change his mind. That should’ve been reason enough for Narcissa to stop wanting it so badly, but she hadn’t been able to stop herself from dreaming. 

_Looking back she can see it was only to be expected that their engagement didn’t last. Sirius had already had his mind made up by then, he just hadn’t told her yet._

_Narcissa still has the engagement ring, but they haven’t talked about ever doing that again. She doesn’t need him to, either. It would’ve mattered within their society, but today she hardly cares at all._

_She’s come to realise there are far more important things in life._

oOo

He’d asked her to leave with him not long enough after that. Bad as the family situation had been, and naive as it perhaps was because of that, Narcissa had been astonished to hear Sirius ask that of her.

She hadn’t been able to comprehend why he’d wanted to leave that badly and she hadn’t been able to understand why he could have expected her to go with him. 

She’d worried too much about being disowned in the first place to even consider, for just a moment at all, running away after she’d been allowed to remain a part of the family. It hadn’t crossed her mind how fucked up the notion of being _allowed_ to be a part of her own family had been. 

Narcissa had been nothing but relieved when she’d been sure that she wasn’t going to be disowned, that she hadn’t lost her family after all, and though she hadn’t wished to think about the implications of the little fortune she still had stored away in her personal vaults, she had no intention of throwing away the chance her father had given her then. 

“Not a chance, Sirius,” she’d told him, and tired as she must have sounded, Sirius responded with fire in his eyes. Fire had always been a part of him, and despite the many arguments it had caused between them for as long as Narcissa could remember, she’d always appreciated it. It had made up for her own icy composure, she liked to think. 

They’d had many conversations, many arguments, just like this before. They’d argued so many times about the way their family was and the future their family had intended for them and the way they had treated them. How many times had Sirius not gotten so upset at any of their parents for how they behaved towards Narcissa when she herself had resigned to the reality of it as soon as possible?

He’d always been so angry on her behalf.

That time the argument had felt more real. It had more seriously than it ever had because there’d been the all too real possibility that Sirius might actually leave. Leave their society, leave their family, leave _her_. 

He’d genuinely expected her to come along, and it had resulted in a screaming match that had easily beaten the one they’d had after he’d realised they were soulmates. They had both yelled at each other louder than she could remember they had ever done before. 

There’d been two fights with Sirius that Narcissa would remember for the rest of her life. The first had been the beginning of their relationship: the discovery of the bond between them and her silence over it. The second had been this, and it had felt like the end.

Narcissa had shaken her head and had laughed in his face and he’d yelled in frustration and had reminded her of all the ways their family had mistreated her. She’d done what she’d always done at those reminders, and had brushed them off. She hadn’t yet come to terms with the fact that Sirius had been right about it, had chosen instead to continue to accept it and make excuses for their family. 

_Narcissa understands all too well where that had come from at the time, but she’s more than glad that it’s not a thought pattern she gives into anymore. She also understands Sirius’ frustration with her at the time, but they’ve both come to the conclusion that that particular aspect of the Black family had been something for her to come to terms with on her own._

_All the yelling in the world wouldn’t have helped her back then, but he’d tried anyway._

After a while of fighting there had been burn marks on the carpet in her room from the explosive magic that burst out of his fingertips and the room had felt like they’d been outside during the winter because of her own magic. Ice and fire, polar opposites, and that had shown perfectly for the duration of that argument. 

“I’m leaving, Narcissa. I don’t give a fuck if you’re coming or not.” Sirius had spat out his words but she’d known very well that he’d been lying. He’d cared, he’d cared so much whether she would come along with or not, but part of her had been glad that he hadn’t admitted that to her.

It had made it easier to refuse. “Then go,” she’d hissed at him, tears of anger in her eyes as she ignored the painful stinging of his name on her wrist. “Throw it all away, and go.”

He had. 

oOo

Narcissa had fallen to her knees the moment Sirius had left. 

It had felt worse than the time she had assumed he’d lied about the name on his wrist. That had stung, more than she had expected it to, but that had been a minor rejection. It had been rejection caused by a misunderstanding, by simply not knowing. 

This had been betrayal. 

A definite end to a bond as strong as that of soulmates brought on by choice and priorities. 

It had hurt so much that Narcissa had not been able to stop herself from breaking out in tears, scarcely able to breathe through her sobs. 

She had fallen to the ground and she had clasped her hand across her mouth and she had wept for what had felt like hours. Hidden away in her bedroom, the choked sobs that had forced themselves out of her masked by silencing charms that had always been in place. 

Narcissa had been the first person in their family to know of Sirius’ betrayal, but she had never let the rest of her family know that. Aunt Walburga had found out hours later when she had sent Kreacher to fetch him from his room. 

By that time, Rodolphus had come and gone already. 

_Today, she can’t quite remember at what point she’d called Rodolphus over. Narcissa only knows how grateful she was, and is, for his loyalty._

Rodolphus had flooed straight into her room as to not have to explain himself to her parents, and he had looked at her with a sort of compassion that was so beautifully genuine she would not forget it anytime soon.

He had sunk to his knees beside her and she had not once feared he would judge her for the vulnerability she was so unaccustomed to. 

Narcissa had cried, high pitched sobs that hurt her chest when they forced themselves out of her, and for the first while that he’d been there Rodolphus hadn’t made an attempt to say anything at all. She’d appreciated it.

He’d hugged her tightly and hadn’t complained when his shirt got soaking wet after a while, hadn’t said a word about the way her fingers had no doubt left bruises on his arms from clutching them so tightly.

After what felt like hours but could not have been that long, Rodolphus had gently loosened her tight grip and had looked at her with nothing but sympathy, a silent reminder that he was planning to keep the promise he’d made her years ago. 

_Always on your side. Narcissa wants to keep that promise, still._

_She knows all too well she’s lost that chance._

“Is this what it felt like when you got engaged?” She’d asked him in a hoarse voice, then. Narcissa hadn’t been offended when he’d looked away from her at the question. 

He’d nodded, making a weak attempt at hiding the genuine pain in his expression by grinning at her as if there’d been nothing wrong. “Not quite as much, I reckon the wedding will be worse.”

She’d known why, of course. She’d spent summer after summer poring over everything she could find on soulmate magic, she’d known perfectly well why this specific betrayal hurt so much. 

It had been their choice. Their choice to leave one another. 

It had been Narcissa’s choice to stay behind in the confinements of their family, giving all she had at being the perfect daughter to her parents. She’d followed all the rules, done everything by the book, and until she’d realised what she was doing to herself, had felt like it was the least she could do to make up for her flaws. 

_Looking back, Narcissa grimaces at the ways Druella had messed with her. She’s learned since then, though it’s an everyday battle still, but she’s not forgiven her mother for ever having made her believe that was her duty._

_It’s not something she’ll ever do, or let anyone else do, to the little boy laughing in the next room._

It had been Sirius’ choice to leave. His choice to break free from the cage of pureblood society and live the life he wanted, and it had been her choice to refuse his offer.

They had made their choices, and that had been what caused the magic between them to hurt so terribly.

Narcissa had simultaneously hoped Sirius was okay and that he was in just as much pain as she herself. She’d later find out he’d been hurting just as much. 

“Does it get better?” She’d asked Rodolphus, and Narcissa had been too focused on the pain coursing through her body to be bothered at how weak her voice sounded. He hadn’t judged her for it. 

To her dissatisfaction, Rodolphus had only shrugged. 

“It fades when you get used to it, but it hasn’t gone away yet. Maybe after the wedding’s over.”

She had a feeling he was only telling that to himself as to keep him from cancelling the betrothal all together. Narcissa hadn’t had the heart to tell her friend that her research suggested quite the opposite.

_Narcissa’s eyes dart to the Daily Prophet that lays open on the kitchen table now, featuring headshots of the three Lestranges and Barty Crouch Jr._

_She can’t help but wonder how things would have gone if Rodolphus had indeed walked out on the wedding arrangement._

_Perhaps he’d have been here with her, but she refuses to give that possibility too much thought._

“Yeah, maybe,” was all Narcissa had told him, and she’d been relieved that he hadn’t caught her lie.

oOo

_1977-1978_

Throughout their seventh year at Hogwarts, Narcissa had not once stopped feeling the burning sting of the magic. It faded at times, and there were times where she could almost pretend it wasn’t there, but each and every time she’d spotted Sirius anywhere in the school it had felt like the pain renewed itself entirely.

Narcissa would see him from across the Great Hall and he would always look up at the same time, their eyes would meet and they’d both look away at once. They’d share a Charms class and because they both were gifted at the subject, they would fight each other for the top marks, ignoring just how badly it hurt to feel that constant negativity between them. 

She had once heard his barking laugh in the halls, not knowing what it was he’d been laughing at at all, and had snapped at all her friends for the rest of the day. None of them, save for Rodolphus, had had a clue as to why. 

She’d avoided him as much as she had been able to.

She hadn’t been able to avoid him for too long.

They’d found each other time and time again, in the privacy of the library or alleys in Hogsmeade or the castle at night, and they came together as one in arguments held over hissed whispers and the heated kisses that always followed. 

Those had been the only times that year that the burning feeling of the soulmate magic faded in its entirety: when they’d give in to one another and find each other’s lips with an intensity that burned just as much but in a far, far better way.

It had always ended the same way.

Sirius would make the mistake of asking her to leave too, asking her to join him and break away from their family, and each time Narcissa would make the mistake of refusing him.

The magic that connected them had always hurt worse the day after such a meeting, but that had never held either of them back from continuing to seek each other out. Drawn to each other by magic stronger than themselves.

_They’d only been caught once, and that’s a memory Narcissa still can’t shake off. She’s not been able to look Professor McGonagall in the eye again, even now._

Before that night, Narcissa had not once dared to imagine herself getting caught snogging in the halls. She’d always been too proper for such things. 

Evidently she had not been too proper to be snogging in the halls at night, but she had considered herself too proper to be caught doing so. Sirius had been reckless, though, far more reckless than Narcissa would ever be and more so than he had been before. 

It had felt like he wanted to take a bigger risk each time they saw each other, and his lack of care for the consequences of their actions had slowly but certainly begun to rub off on her. 

The only thing that had crossed Narcissa’s mind when Professor McGonagall had given the both of them that stern look of hers, had been that if her mother could have seen this, surely she would have suffered a heart attack.

The thought had made it hard to keep herself from chuckling, no matter how embarrassed Narcissa had been. 

Seventh year had also been the year that, looking back, Narcissa should have seen her friend’s problems coming from miles away. 

Rodolphus had seemed to spend more time in the hospital wing and detention than anything else combined, and though Narcissa hadn’t seen it as a reason to pull away from him even a bit, it had worried her greatly. 

She’d suspected his approaching marriage had everything to do with it, but the war that had begun to rage around them in a way that no longer allowed any student to ignore it certainly hadn’t helped. 

He would be caught red-handed fighting with whoever was there in the corridors, never too publicly but often enough that a reputation had begun to grow around him. More often than not he’d forget about his wand entirely and use only his fists. Narcissa had always helped him heal those fists, but had turned a blind eye otherwise.

_Narcissa feels guilty for how she handled it now. Guilty, as if her seventeen-year-old self could have done so much to prevent her brother in all but blood from going down the horrifically destructive path that he did._

_His face stares up at her from the Daily Prophet now, and it hurts to think of the ways their lives might have been different if she had known what to do back then. If she’d never let it get that far._

_It’s not her fault, she knows that too, but Narcissa can’t stop herself from wishing she or anyone at all could have been there for Rodolphus when it hadn’t been too late yet. She briefly wonders if this is too late, if it would be too late to help him if the trial goes his way._

_Narcissa fears the worst._

She’d never feared Rodolphus, just as she would never fear him or her sister in the time that would follow. Destructive, aggressive, hot-headed and, in Bella’s case, cruel as they could be, they’d never given her reason to be afraid of them. Not Narcissa.

Over the Christmas holidays he’d been Marked, and though the thought of someone willingly taking another wizard’s mark had shaken Narcissa, she’d hoped it would bring her friend a sense of duty, a calmness perhaps. She’d been wrong. 

From the Christmas holidays on, Rodolphus’ eyes had only grown emptier and his knuckles had only been broken more often. Narcissa hadn’t been afraid of him, she never would be, but Sweet Salazar, had she feared for him.

Halfway through seventh year, a few weeks before Rodolphus’ and Bella’s wedding over the Easter holidays, another tragedy had hit the family.

Narcissa had only received the news by means of a hastily written note in her mother’s handwriting, informing her that Andromeda was no longer a part of their family. More explanation had come throughout the day: a letter from Andromeda herself that was filled with promises and apologies and well wishes, and that she had torn apart halfway through reading.

In her pain, her natural magic had slipped out of control for just a moment, but none of her friends had mentioned their annoyance at their frozen pumpkin juice.

Narcissa had hidden herself away in a hidden corridor that Sirius had once shown her and had sat there crying intermittently for hours. Whether she’d felt furious towards her sister for leaving her, or envious that she hadn’t left as well, Narcissa had not been sure. She’d been ashamed to admit that to herself.

“You could do it too, you know that right?” Sirius had told her when they’d met that same night, as always after having kissed her until she’d grown weak in her knees. 

Narcissa had stormed out on him without looking back, blinded by tears and ignoring the stinging pain in her chest.

She hadn’t been able to believe he would say that, of all things that, to her in a moment as that. Narcissa had located Rodolphus in the boys’ dormitory and, after only vaguely checking to see if there’d been anyone else, had thrown herself in his arms with tears in her eyes. 

Her magic raging inside of her and stinging more painfully than it did normally because though her slap hadn’t been intended to seriously hurt Sirius, she’d still hit him, Narcissa had allowed herself to bury her head in her friend’s chest and let him tell her just how wrong and just how rude Sirius had been. 

Blood on his knuckles as he might have had, his embrace had never stopped feeling like home, had never stopped everything from feeling just a little better. It wouldn’t for quite some time.

oOo

_1978_

The summer after her seventh year she had become engaged once more, this time to Lucius Malfoy.

Lucius had been fine.

They’d been friends since her first year at Hogwarts, him having been one year above her. Narcissa had always gotten along just fine with him, so she didn’t foresee any issues in their marriage, and there was no reason to complain about a surname like Malfoy.

She’d repeated Narcissa Malfoy in her head over and over again until she’d convinced herself she liked it better than Narcissa Black.

Her father had gone through great lengths, pulled many strings, to arrange this marriage for her, and she had been grateful for it. Lucius had in fact been on the verge of engagement to another witch at the time, a Selwyn girl who in no way could compare to a daughter of the house of Black.

It had not been Cygnus’ fault, just as it had not been Lucius’, that she had not looked forward to her wedding.

The mark on her wrist was visible, clear as day against her pale skin, and when in private it was an everlasting reminder that Lucius would never be hers, and she would never be his. Not really.

The engagement had not hurt her as much as she’d feared it would. 

Narcissa had recalled that Rodolphus had been in pain after he’d gotten engaged, but for her, the worst of it had been when she’d refused to leave. Breaking off her engagement to Sirius was a worse betrayal to the bond between them than getting arranged for marriage to another wizard was. 

oOo

_1978_

A few days after her engagement party, Rodolphus had invited her to go out for drinks. Nowhere fancy, nowhere expensive, because he’d assumed they could both do with a short break from all that. 

She’d realised she’d missed just talking like that to her friend: careless without the invisible pressure that had always seemed to come with any other environment than something like this. It had been typical of their society, the way it had always felt like _someone_ was watching, like someone was judging. 

They'd discussed his marriage and he had complained to his heart's content while she'd pretended not to be a little offended on her sister's behalf. Rodolphus had had his fair share of good points about her, so it hadn't been too hard.

The topic of soulmates had briefly come up but just as quickly they'd discarded it. Neither of them had really felt like talking about _that_.

It had to be just her luck that out of all places she and Rodolphus had had the option of going for a drink that night, it would be the same place Sirius would go.

They had just ordered another round of firewhiskey, it would be her third glass and she’d stopped counting how much Rodolphus was drinking. Narcissa had always had a habit of turning a blind eye to her friends’ faults. 

She pretended not to catch the occasional glimpse of a serpent-shaped tattoo on Rodolphus’ forearm, just as she would pretend she was not terribly worried for his state of being when he’d finished his glass before Narcissa had drunk half of hers. 

They’d talked about it, certainly, but sitting at the bar in the Leaky Cauldron where anyone could overhear them was not the place to bring it up. She turned away, unseeing for now.

And saw Sirius.

Narcissa had blamed it on the magic that she had looked up the very moment he had entered the pub, had even more so blamed it on that magic that she’d gasped when their eyes met. 

She hadn’t seen him since the end of their seventh year. It had been a few months now.

Narcissa had also chosen to blame it on the magic that sparked between them that she’d found herself, no less than fifteen minutes after Sirius had shown up, sitting on a bathroom sink of which she had not dared to think how sanitary it had been.

 _She chuckles at that memory now. There have been more occasions like that since then, too. Sirius is too terribly good at bringing out the very worst in her._

oOo

She’d left three days later. 

She had asked her father permission to stay with Rodolphus for a few days. Bellatrix had been out of the country that weekend, which Narcissa had been glad about because she didn’t think she would have been able to face her sister knowing it would be the last time.

“Narcissa, accompany me to my study, would you?” He’d asked that night, he had always made it a point to use her first name as often as possible when Druella was around. She’d obeyed without question.

Cygnus had led her into his study and, after a moment’s hesitation, had handed her a small box that he’d kept in an enchanted vault in his bookcase. 

“I’d intended to give you this on your wedding day, my dear,” he’d begun, his voice graver than Narcissa had expected. It had filled her with dread. “But something compels me to give it to you now. It has been in our family for generations.”

He’d known she’d been planning to leave.

He hadn’t stopped her.

Inside the black velvet box had been a dark silver ring in the shape of a serpent and a beautiful ornate necklace, resembling the one she had received for her seventeenth birthday. They were both heirlooms, but this was meant to be worn at a wedding. A wedding her father had known she would not be attending.

Narcissa’s eyes had filled to the brim with tears, but she hadn’t shed them until Cygnus had risen from his chair and pulled her into a warm hug.

Like the rest of the family, he’d known of the mark on her wrist and whose name it was, and unlike the rest of them, he’d known of her plans to reunite herself with Sirius. He hadn’t once tried to hold her back, and for that Narcissa would always remain grateful. 

“I am so proud of you, darling girl. I’ve always been, I always will be.” His last words to her, whispered before he’d pressed a kiss to her forehead and wiped her tears away gently. “Never question it.”

_Today Narcissa knows that part of the reason Cygnus had let go of her so easily was that he’d already known he was dying. Dragon pox would take him a mere two months later, and he wouldn’t have made it to her wedding to Lucius even if it’d happened._

_The ring is sitting around her finger still, in place of a wedding ring. She hasn’t taken it off since receiving the news of her father’s passing._

Narcissa had in fact gone to Lestrange Manor, and she had in fact stayed there one night. She’d shared a drink with Rodolphus and allowed him to show her around the stables one last time and had for the last time pretended to be just as excited as he’d been about the Pegasus’ development.

It’d been nice to see him one last time.

They’d been sentimental and discussed memories, had at one point been drunk enough to get out a photo album and go through it until she was crying for the second time that day. 

They had talked until deep in the night, sitting downstairs in the drawing-room where she had once shown up devastated one summer and where they had played countless magical board games as children. She hadn’t quite been able to believe how much things had changed since then.

Part of Narcissa had wondered where things had gone wrong.

Part of her didn’t want to leave Rodolphus behind at all.

Part of her had begun to regret her decision before she had acted on it.

When they’d woken up in the morning they’d shared Hangover potions and talked more over breakfast. Narcissa had teared up again and this time, much to her surprise, Rodolphus had too.

“What am I doing?” she’d whispered, unable to get a bite of the no doubt delicious pancakes down her throat. There were tears in her eyes and her hands had gone numb, anxiously reconsidering everything she had been so sure of until last night.

Even Cygnus had not held her back. Why on earth was she letting herself do it for him?

Rodolphus had just grinned at her sympathetically from across the table. He had a way about him that made everything feel a little less drastic, a little less severe. A little better. “That pain, the burning of your mark, has it been there since you left Black manor?”

Narcissa hadn’t made that connection yet. She’d shaken her head slowly, surprise evident in her expression, and before she’d had a chance to respond Rodolphus spoke again.

“Then that means you’re making the right decision here, Cissa.” He had told her with such confidence that even with all her doubts, Narcissa hadn’t had it in her to argue. It didn’t quiet her other worries, though.

“What about you?”

At once his expression had darkened slightly. It wasn’t in anger, as someone who knew him less well might have expected, but in a defeated manner that Narcissa had known all too well by then. 

She’d regretted asking at all, but Rodolphus had only shrugged and taken another pancake. She had known he’d gotten to know Augustus closer, but whenever she’d breached the subject Rodolphus had changed the topic or had just given her vague answers. 

Narcissa had felt a little guilty for asking, but she hadn’t wanted to leave her dearest friend without inquiring about his happiness at all. 

“The magic surrounding it seems to disagree, but I think I’ve made the right decision, too.”

There’d been too much defeat in that one sentence and Rodolphus’ expression hadn’t helped in the slightest. There really hadn’t been anything Narcissa could’ve done for her friend, but before she’d had time to ponder about it too long, before she’d had time to feel too guilty over it, Rodolphus had shaken his head at her with a smile that she’d decided to pretend was real. 

“Don’t, Cissa,” he’d told her, and he’d forced a grin. “I’ve made my choices, and I’ve made my peace with that.” He’d been lying, but she hadn’t forced him to admit that. “Go make your own.”

_Narcissa sometimes thinks if she should’ve said more, pushed more, during that last conversation._

_She also knows herself enough to know that by allowing her to pretend he was perfectly alright with the way things had been, he’d given her the opportunity to leave without feeling too guilty._

_She can’t compare that friend, that man who’s like a brother to her, to the criminal the world now knows him as. They’re the same person, but one of them has given her her freedom and the love of her life and she can’t forget that._

_She can’t let herself forget that. She doesn’t want to._

_Narcissa sighs softly and feels tears stinging behind her eyes that she pushes back quickly. It’s complicated, she supposes. Perhaps it’s better left at that._

oOo

If Sirius had been upset by her sudden arrival, nothing in his elated expression betrayed it. 

She’d shown up at his apartment a little past noon, dressed in the same proper robes she’d worn the day before. Her personal elf was at Lestrange Manor with her belongings, for she hadn’t dared to hope she’d be taken in so easily. 

Narcissa had been dragged inside quickly and she was pulled into a tight hug immediately. “I’m mad at you, you know. But fuck, I’m happy to see you,” Sirius had whispered to her, and she’d known they’d be arguing later without a doubt but it hadn’t mattered then. 

His friends hadn’t been quite so easy. Narcissa hadn’t expected them to be.

Most of what his friends had known or assumed about her was based on what they had known about the Black family, based on stories Sirius and other students would have told them about her family. It had taken a while for them to warm up to her, just as it had taken her a while to readjust to that new life. 

Her elf was with her, but Lily and Peter looked at the way she commanded it with disgust, so Narcissa kept it hidden most of the time. Her elf had made it easier to adjust, had made the messy apartment feel like home, but it also had made it that much more difficult to try and change these people’s opinions of her. 

Narcissa and James had gotten along easier than expected, but she had clashed with Remus more often than not, and after a week she had decided to just keep to herself and Sirius and wait out the rest. 

Then there’d been the war still raging around them.

They had all grown up with the prospect of war, she and Sirius more so than the others due to their family’s involvement in the early developments of the Death Eaters, and at times it hurt to realise that at the age of twenty, the two of them had spent more time knowing there would be a war than not. 

She had received news of her father’s passing through a letter by Rodolphus, just before the goblins of Gringotts had contacted her about his estate. Though most went to Bella, her being the only daughter not disowned, Cygnus had written her into his will specifically by name, and had left her all she would ever need to get by comfortably.

Narcissa and Sirius had argued about many things, ranging from the war to the laundry, but the stinging of their magic hadn’t returned. They’d fought when he routinely returned from Order missions covered in burns and blood and she got angry with him because she never stopped worrying over him. They’d fought when she’d refused to get involved in the war and he somehow simultaneously wanted to keep her safe and make her fight with them. 

Their arguments aside, having Sirius around had made the rest of the world hurt so much less that Narcissa had hardly been able to imagine herself worried about anything at all at times.

James had taken it upon himself to, with his own limited skills, teach her the basics of cooking. Narcissa hadn’t a clue even how to cut onions, and Sirius had kissed her senseless when he’d caught her teary-eyed but laughing. Lily had rolled her eyes and called the both of them spoiled. 

She hadn’t been wrong, but it’d ruined the moment just a little. 

Slowly, so terribly slowly, all of them had fallen into a more or less functional dynamic. Narcissa and Lily had warmed up to each other over the months that had followed, to the point where Narcissa had nearly teared up when she’d been told about Lily’s pregnancy. 

After the pregnancy announcement, it had all gone so fast. 

All the deaths around them, the prophecy, the Potters going in hiding, the war that had begun to seem they’d been on a losing side of, it had all become so much and so real so sudden. The thought had crossed her mind that if she was going to die, at least she would die with Sirius. It’d only made the fear a little less petrifying. 

Harry’s birth had been a bit of light in the darkness, and it’s a memory Narcissa still treasures. 

_Narcissa forces her memories to stop at that point._

_She wants the last thing she remembers of the people she’d eventually considered her own friends, and not just Sirius’, to be happiness._

_She’s always been better at ignoring the painful truths for the sake of pretending everything and everyone is fine. Narcissa knows that of herself, and she’s argued about it with Sirius often enough, but she’d rather not change it now._

oOo

_1982_

Today it’s been nearly nine months since James and Lily were murdered.

It’s been nearly nine months she’d read in the Daily Prophet that all three Lestranges had been arrested and it’s been nearly nine months since she and Sirius have taken in Harry James Potter as though he is their own.

Over the course of the past months, it’s begun to feel like he is. Narcissa hasn’t told Sirius about that, knowing it would only hurt him.

He hasn’t been himself since it happened and Narcissa can’t fault him for it because neither has she. At eleven she’d hated James Potter, but she’s long come to treasure the strong friendship Sirius and he had. 

She doesn’t want to imagine what would have become of either of them if it had not been for James Potter and his impeccable influence on her soulmate. 

Narcissa wonders about it, sometimes. What would have happened if Sirius had never been sorted into Gryffindor, what would have happened if she’d never left the family behind, what would have happened if Sirius hadn’t either. 

Perhaps they’d have been married now. She’s quite sure they would have been. 

As it is, the only ring she wears is the one her father gave her at eighteen. A little over three years ago already. 

As it is, she’s standing in the kitchen of an expensive and ornate apartment in muggle London. A compromise between herself and Sirius. 

There’s a leather jacket hanging over the back of a chair that hasn’t been properly tucked back under the table and there are dishes cleaning themselves in the sink she’s standing next to. A mug of tea that’s turned cold a long time ago stands before her on the kitchen table that’s littered with Harry’s toys, the contents of her purse, and the Daily Prophet she can’t tear her eyes away from.

The Lestranges will have their trial tomorrow. Just the thought of it makes her tear up.

She didn’t know it would happen now. Despite Bella being her sister and Rodolphus being as good as her brother, her mother had made all too sure Narcissa had been kept out of the loop.

Narcissa found out just now, alongside the rest of the wizarding world.

She doesn’t know for sure how long she’s been staring at the mugshots of Bella and Rodolphus, of Rabastan and that pale kid that accompanied them. Long enough to recall everything.

Everything. All that happened to get her where she is now, looking up when she hears little Harry’s excited cries when the doorbell rings but not being able to get herself to smile when she recognises Remus’ voice in the hallway. 

Everything from the day she’d turned eleven years old and Sirius’ name had shown up on her wrist, and how all of it has led to her staring at mugshots of her family who she fears will spend the rest of their lives in the hellscape that is Azkaban.

Narcissa doesn’t know what to hope for in the trial, doesn’t know what she should want to happen.

She wants to go, but she’s not sure if that’s a good idea. She’ll have to bring it up to Sirius today.

It’d been troubling enough to give Sirius his own trial after the horrific night of Halloween 1981. Narcissa has never been surprised at how incompetent the Ministry is at times, but that is a new low in her opinion.

He’d nearly been locked away for life for a crime he did not commit. A crime he wouldn’t have dared to imagine. 

Sirius hasn’t healed from that yet, and she fears it will be a while before he does.

She’ll be here every step of the way.

In the living room, she hears Sirius and Remus taking turns cooing at Harry and it forces a smile to break through on her face for the first time since receiving the Prophet in the mail.

This is her life now. Living with Sirius in that same apartment that she arrived at nearly three and a half years ago, raising his godson with him. It’s nothing like she’d ever expected from her future growing up, but it’s everything she could ask for. 

She hears Remus ask Sirius about her in the living room, and from the tone of his voice she guesses he must’ve read the prophet before coming over. Sirius hasn’t had the chance yet, and she smiles sadly to find that he’s immediately worried, instantly ready to tackle whatever it is that would cause her to be anything but fine. 

A few minutes later she’s heard the front door fall shut again, and Sirius is standing beside her in the kitchen. Narcissa watches him look over the Daily Prophet with a frown, then catches his eyes when he looks at her concerned. Ready to fight for her even if he knows there’s nothing to be fought. 

“Remus has taken Harry to the park, they might stop by Andy’s on the way back,” Sirius tells her, and she knows it’s his way of saying that they’re alone. They’re alone, and it’s okay for her to not be okay about this. 

Narcissa nods slowly and returns to look at the Daily Prophet, not entirely sure where to start. When she doesn’t start, Sirius makes her turn around and look away from the newspaper so he can look at her properly. 

“I hate them,” he begins, and the bluntness of his statement nearly makes her smile. “Hate them, and think they’re getting what they deserve. But they’re your people, and I might hate them but that doesn’t mean you have to be okay about this.”

It nauseates her to think about the crime they’ve committed, distresses her to imagine the people she loves so dearly doing something so horrific, but Sirius is right all the same. They’re her people, even now, and she knows what’s coming for them and she doesn’t want it. 

“I don’t understand what they were thinking,” she tells him, her voice sounding distant even to herself. “I’m trying to imagine if- if I’d been there... Would they still have done this? Could I have stopped it?”

Narcissa can see in his eyes everything that he really wants to say about these people, and she appreciates it more than she has the ability to tell him that he holds himself back. He ends up settling for “Maybe,” with a sorry frown. “Maybe not. You- you can’t think like that, though. You weren’t there, and that’s a good thing.”

She nods in agreement, even if her expression says something else. He’s right. She’s here, with him, and she knows too well that that’s worth so much more than anything that other life could have given her. “It is.”

She’s right here with Sirius, and that’s the best place for her.

She’s happy when she wakes up next to Sirius, or when she wakes up alone and comes downstairs to find Sirius on the living room floor with Harry and a tiny magical motorbike for the boy to sit on. 

She’s just as happy when Remus or Andromeda comes to visit, and she’s delighted when little Nymphadora changes her hair to match her black and white. Narcissa and Andy have gotten so much closer over the past years, and that too makes her so happy. 

It hurts to look at the mug shots in the Daily Prophet and think of the _could have beens_ of those other lives, the life picked out for her or the life she’d nearly chosen. Narcissa wonders if she could have prevented this from happening to her family. Realistically speaking, she doubts it.

“We can go to the hearing. If you want to.”

It touches her that he’d even give her that option, knowing full well how much of a struggle it is for him to even get those words out. Narcissa shakes her head. 

She wants to. She wants to see them one last time even if she knows all too well that the trial is just going to be for show, she wants to see her sister and she wants to see her best friends and she wants to tell them so many things and just the thought of doing that brings tears to her eyes. 

She would have, no doubt, if Sirius hadn’t been given or hadn’t won his own trial, if he hadn’t been here to think of. It was hard enough to get him to walk free, and she won’t risk ruining that now over her own grief. 

Narcissa also doesn’t think seeing these people in this position, after what they’ve done, would do her any good. She wants it to, but she’s seen the way Sirius’ trial went and she knows it wouldn’t be anything like she might need it to be. 

They’ll be in chains, having already spent nine months with dementors, and nothing about seeing them like that would be good for her or them in any way. 

There’s tears on her cheeks when she wraps her arms tightly around Sirius and shakes her head again. “It wouldn’t be wise,” she whispers, and she chooses to only focus on his arms around her waist and his breath against her hair, closing her eyes when she rests her head on his shoulder. 

She’s made a lot of decisions over the years, and as much as it hurts that those decisions have permanently taken people she loves so much out of her life, each and every one of them has led her to this place.

Wrapped up in a warm embrace from the man she loves more than words can say, who she knows she will be bound to by beautiful magic for the rest of their lives, with the beautiful boy they are raising despite the horrendous circumstances that brought him into their lives. 

That’s enough. It’s all she needs and it’s all she wants, and she can make her peace with everything she’s lost because the things she’s gained from it are this beautiful. Narcissa looks up at Sirius with a smile on her lips and a stray tear on her cheek, and he kisses her sweetly. 

“I’ve got you,” she tells him, genuinely. “You and little Prongslet— ” it certainly took her a while to warm up to that nickname, but now she adores it “ —and Remus and Andy. It’s alright. I’m okay."

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated if you liked this!


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